


Meant To Be

by jennytork



Series: The Amulet Trilogy [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennytork/pseuds/jennytork
Summary: It's time. Time for answers. Time for a showdown.





	Meant To Be

MEANT TO BE

Sam woke slowly, stretching. As become his habit since the first morning after retrieving the thing, his fingers touched his chest as his arms lowered, feeling the familiar contours of the bull's-head amulet.

Dean had insisted he keep it till after Detroit. He kept having vision-dreams of Lucifer trying to take Sam over, a light coming out of the amulet, and then ---

.....And then Dean would always wake up.

Sam _knew_ how frustrating that was.

He glanced over at the other bed and gave a soft sigh at seeing Castiel's rumpled form curled up in it, dead to the world. 

His powers were fading faster and faster now. To the point that food and rest were no longer novelties.

Sam shifted position, looking to his other side and smiling warmly. He and Dean had shared beds since they were children, and neither of them had thought twice about sharing one now that a third man was once more with them.

Dean was on his back, one arm straight at his side, the other curled around his stomach. His eyes were moving rapidly under their lids, and his brows would draw together in a frown and smooth out as Sam watched.

 _Dream,_ Sam diagnosed. _He's dreaming._

Dean's lips parted and a oft cry escaped as his eyes screwed tighter shut, tears of pain beading at the corners.

 _Not a dream,_ Sam thought wildly. _A vision!_ Without thinking, he lay his hand over the one on Dean's stomach.

Suddenly a still-familiar stab of pain jolted behind his eyes and the world dissolved into whiteness as Sam's first vision in three years developed.

He saw himself standing battle-ready. He saw a huge column of white-black smoke surrounding him, preparing to pour into his open mouth.

He saw his chest suddenly flare white-hot, and then---

The world turned black and, with a double-voiced cry of shock and pain, both Winchesters were sitting up, panting and wild-eyed.

The bed dipped as a sleepy-eyed Castiel sank onto the foot of it. "That's it," he said, his voice even rougher with sleep. "We are going to get the two of you diagnosed."

"'Diagnosed'?" Sam gasped.

"Visions do not spontaneously jump from one person to another," Castiel explained. "Much less be shared at a touch. Something strange is happening to the two of you. So we need to diagnose it." With that, he stood and made his way to the bathroom.

"Yeah?" Dean called after him. "And just where do we go to _get_ 'diagnosed'?"

"Lawrence!" Castiel called back.

"Lawrence?" Sam asked, then the brothers looked at each other as understanding dawned and they spoke as one. 

"Missouri."

~*~

Missouri Moseley opened her door before anyone knocked. She glared at the trio on her porch. "You boys," she muttered. "I swear, I could just slap the crap out of all three of you. Come in." She stepped out of the way. 

Abashed, they walked in and she put her fingertips onto Castiel's chest. "You -- You go shower. Right now. The bathroom's that way. Throw your clothes outside and I'll wash them."

To his credit, he didn't argue. "What shall I wear in the meantime?"

"One of my son's outfits. I'll provide. You go shower."

"Yes, ma'am." He went meekly.

Dean pointed after him and just looked at Missouri. "What....how did...."

"I'm a mother, boy. You don't argue with a mother." She gestured toward the couch. "Sit. Both of you."

Sam sat and she carded her fingers through his hair. "My, my...it'll all be all right now, child. What's done is done."

Sam frowned. "But, Missouri, I--"

"You are forgiven, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened and he looked at Dean.

Dean nodded, smiling.

And at last Sam allowed himself to cry.

Dean sat down beside him and rubbed his back. "See, Sammy? Absolution."

"I don't deserve it," he sobbed. "Not ... Not after what I did..."

"No, son," Missouri said, coming to sit on his other side. "You did what you did with the right motives. You were _manipulated_ , Sam. _Used_. Since you were six months old."

"And he still is," Castiel said, coming barefoot from the bathroom, still drying his ebony curls with a ludicrously pink towel. "My apologies, Dean. Miss Missouri's son's clothing did not fit, so I borrowed some from your duffel."

Dean nodded. "I thought that jeans-and-t looked familiar. Here, trade you." He slid off his green flannel and handed it to Castiel, taking the brown one and sliding it on.

Castiel pulled it on and it was immediately clear why Dean had switched. The green was too large on Castiel. The brown would have swallowed him whole.

"Still...am?" Sam asked, blinking up at Castiel. "What--"

"Lucifer, baby boy," Missouri said softly. "Still trying to get you in his clutches."

Even though the tears still flowed, Sam growled. "I hate him. I'm tired of being used. Tired of being manipulated."

"Sam." Missouri took his hand. "I know what Dean's been seein'. I know what you're wearin'."

Sam's free hand clutched around the amulet he wore under his shirt.

She nodded. "And the rings. He knows about the rings. He don't know about the amulet. Keep it under your clothes." She squeezed his hand. "And I'm sorry, baby boy. It'll only work when you say yes. I know you don't want to -- but when you do, you will be shocked at how well it will turn out."

Sam nodded slowly, processing it.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh...Missouri...."

Turning the smile at him, she asked. "Why are you the one having visions when that was Sam's 'special child' ability?"

"Yeah," Sam and Dean said together. Castiel sat on the coffee table, listening raptly to her.

"Does the name Andrew Gallagher mean anything to you?" she asked.

Dean's eyes grew huge. "That vision he tripped in me when you were at Cold Oak..."

Missouri nodded. "Sam was born a natural psychic. His abilities were affected and mutated by the demon blood. When Andrew fed you that vision, the pathways in your brain were altered so you could accept it. Otherwise, you wouldn't have seen a thing."

"But," Sam argued, "my visions stopped completley after Cold Oak. And his just started!"

"Psychic abilities are a form of energy," she went on. "Energy can not be created _or_ destroyed -- basic physics. When you died at Cold Oak, that energy took the path of least resistance -- it went to the closest person whose brain could now accept it. To Dean."

They nodded. That made perfect sense. "But why am I just _now_ having them?" Dean asked.

She smiled at Castiel. "You know why."

"I suspected why, ma'am." He nodded. "It is as I thought?" At her nod, he turned to an impatiently vibrating Dean. "They were blocked by the amulet."

Both brothers' eyes widened. Sam clutched it. "And since it's around _my neck_ now..."

"The pathway's open," Missouri began.

"....and I'm having visions," Dean sighed. "Okay."

"Okay?" Sam gasped. "How is _this_ okay?"

"Sammy, do you have _any_ idea of how many times I would helplessly watch you suffer through these and _beg_ to be the one carrying it instead of you? Well, guess what? Now I _am_ and you're _not. That_ makes this okay in my book."

Sam was stunned into silence for a long moment. Then he said softly, "I wish you didn't have to hurt."

Dean shrugged. "Hey -- after Hell, a few vision headaches are nothin'."

Missouri leaned across Sam and touched Dean's knee. "I'll show you a few tricks, if you like."

He saw in her eyes -- as did Sam -- the unspoken 'I didn't offer before because we both know Sam wouldn't have accepted it'. Dean nodded. "Thanks."

Sam felt simultaneously proud and shamed. To distract himself, he turned to Castiel. "And what's up with you? You're being particularly polite."

His blue eyes widened. "You -- you don't _know_?"

"Know what?" they chorused.

"Castiel..." Missouri began.

"Miss Missouri," Castiel told the brothers. "She is a truth-teller."

"A psychic, yeah," Dean said.

"No, not merely a psychic." Castiel's voice was awed. "She is a _prophetess_."

Two jaws slammed open. Two pairs of green eyes widened and snapped to Missouri.

Missouri glowered at Castiel. She crossed her arms and glared at the brothers.

"I've _still_ got that spoon, boys," she drawled. "And I _still_ got _no_ compunction about crackin' it 'cross your behinds!"

~*~

Sam sniffed, running the back of his hand over his dripping nose. 

"Oh, you're kiddin' me," Dean half-laughed. "Seriously? _Now?_ "

"Dean, if I could control when these stupid allergies strike...." Sam sniffled and drug his sleeve over his nose.

Dean looked at Castiel and rolled his eyes. Castiel laughed softly -- and _wow_ , that was a sound Dean wouldn't mind hearing again. By the look on Sam's face, he wouldn't mind hearing it, either. "You should laugh more often."

Castiel shrugged. "When this is over, perhaps there will be plenty of things to laugh about." Sam sneezed, and Castiel winced. "That is not one of them."

Sam sniffled again, and blew his nose on the tail of his shirt. Wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, he nodded. "Okay. M'good."

"You're sure." Dean looked skeptically at him. "I mean, we could always reschedule this showdown until Your Majesty is feeling better...." 

"Dean." And there was the acid glare.

"All right." Dean held up a hand. "M'just sayin'."

"Sam." The voice dripped velvet. The three turned, and there he was. His vessel's body was deteriorating at an alarming rate, but his eyes blazed with an unholy light. "You are unwell."

"I'm well enough for this," Sam said, sniffling softly. 

Lucifer shook his head. "Well enough to say no? If you allow me, I will heal you from the inside out."

"M'not sayin' no. Not this time."

That threw him. His head tilted. "No?"

"I'm tired. I'm tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of everybody around me dying. Get it over with." His chin rose. " _Yes. I'll do it._ "

Lucifer looked at Dean, who spread his hands. "Don't look at me. I'm against this and think he's stupid for givin' in."

A cold smile spread. With that reaction, he realised this was real. "Very well. Oh, Dean -- you might want to forget about those rings you're palming. They're useless against me."

"We'll see," Dean growled. But he took his hand out of his pocket. No since hiding the Horsemen's Rings -- not if they were no longer a secret.

"Very well." His vessel's mouth opened and white-black smoke poured out of it. The vessel fell, and Castiel grabbed it and pulled it out of the way. 

Dean looked wildly at him, and shocked blue eyes widened as Castiel nodded.

Against all odds, Nick Mason was _alive._

The smoke hovered, curling around Sam's body like an appreciative lover circling his intended. Sam couldn't resist the sneer of disgust. "Just _do it,_ already!"

It hovered before him, then. Waiting.

Sam nodded, relaxing into battle-ready stance and opening his mouth.

Ice slammed into Dean's gut as he realised _this is it_.

The smoke rose, arcing gracefully toward Sam's open mouth and beginning to enter.

A small white dot appeared on Sam's chest, under his shirt.

The smoke pushed inside his mouth and he gagged.

The dot became a flare, shining white against the black of smoke.

Castiel's eyes widened. " _Shield your eyes!_ " he bellowed, throwing his body over Dean's.

The entire warehouse suddenly lit with white-blue light. An unearthly scream ripped through their consciousness, and then there was a shudder like an earthquake. 

Dean reacted on instinct. He threw the rings toward the light and -- eyes closed -- screamed the incantation at the top of his lungs.

There was another tremble and the light faded. Dean and Castiel opened their eyes to see the rings sinking into the concrete floor. The concrete opened like a zipper, and a horrific wind blew.

The smoke was imprisoned in a cube of light that seemed tethered to the amulet that was now visible through the burned-through shirt on Sam's chest. Sam was staring at it with eyes lit from within by the same white-blue light that was coming from the amulet.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled.

"Go away," Sam said calmly, and Dean realised that he was talking to the smoke. "You're out too early. It's not time. Not now."

The smoke screeched as the cube glided forward and down into the hole, which closed over it.

".....goodbye, Prince of Lies," Sam whispered. The light from the amulet pulsed and he looked over at Dean and Castiel.

Dean slowly gained his feet, looking into the strangely glowing eyes. "....Sammy?"

"It isn't over," Sam said. "You might want to shield your eyes, guys. Just one more time. Because I'm going to explode."

"Sammy, _NO!_ " Dean wailed.

"Oh, no," Sam smiled. "Sam will be intact. I'll see to that. But I _am_ going to explode."

Castiel found his voice. "Who are you?"

Laughing, Sam shook his head. "I am not a who, Little Bird. I am a what. Made for such a time as this."

Dean's jaw slammed open. "You're the _amulet_?"

"I am what is inside the amulet. I have no name. But I have a purpose. And it is fulfilled -- but in the filling, too much power was built up. I can not control it and I have only seconds left."

And Sam's entire body began to glow blue-white. Castiel grabbed Dean again and threw him against the wall, pinning him there with his own body.

Suddenly, there was a blast of sound and light. When it faded, Castiel turned and Dean shoved him away. "....Sammy...."

Sam stood there, in just his jeans and the torn remains of his shirt. The amulet -- now just a lifeless piece of brass -- sagged on its tattered cord. As they watched, the cord snapped and the bull's-head crashed to the ground and broke in two.

Sam looked up, huge-eyed. ".....Dean...."

"Are you okay?" Dean ran to his side and took him by the arms, visually checking him over. "Are you okay, Sammy? Please, please say something..."

Castiel moved to Sam's side and helped support him. 

"....Dean...."

Dean smiled, to see those eyes locking onto him. "Sam.....are you--"

"Dean." It was Castiel. He'd pushed Sam's hair out of his face to see him better. There was something in his voice that caused Dean's stomach to clench.

When he met Castiel's eyes, the former angel whispered, "His ear is bleeding."

Dean's eyes snapped back to Sam's. "Sammy....c-can you hear me?"

Sam blinked sluggishly. "......Dean...." he said for the third time. ".....s'it over?"

Numb, Dean nodded.

"Oh. Okay." Sam smiled slightly. "We did it."

"Sammy.....Can. You. Hear. Me?"

Sam giggled -- honest-to-God _giggled_ \-- and shook his head. "But we won, Dean! We _won!_ " 

Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled like a puppet with cut strings.

Dean caught him and eased him to the ground, easing himself to the ground with him and holding his brother like he was still the baby Dean had carried out of a burning building all those years ago.

Castiel lay his hand between Dean's shoulderblades as Dean buried his nose in the thick waves that smelled of cheap shampoo and sweat and _Sam_. He left it there, a silent support, as Dean began to tremble.

To sob.

Somewhere in the breakdown, Nick opened glazed eyes and slowly sat up. He saw the trio kneeling there -- the sobbing blond holding the unconscious giant, with the black-haired one's head bowed in fervent prayer. 

Convinced this was part of the nightmare he'd been dreaming since he'd said yes to the prince of liars, Nick lay back down, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

END


End file.
